A Bit Off
by hujwernoo
Summary: Mina is a new maid, and she's hearing some...interesting...things about a certain servant...Oneshot, outsider POV.


"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I looked up to see a woman a few years older than me nodding at the basket in my hand. "Mixing the blues and blacks. Let them soak long enough and the blues start to get darker."

I sighed, looked in the basket and set it on the ground. "Thanks."

She gave me a small smile. "It's fine. You're new, right?"

I smiled back ruefully. "That obvious?"

"I know everyone in here. Haven't seen you before. Did you just start today?"

I nodded, and stuck out a hand. "Mina."

She took it. "Sarah. Whoops!" She stepped out of the way of a cook bearing a bowl of something that smelled nice, narrowly avoiding a collision. The aproned woman swept past, not even glancing at her. Sarah stuck her tongue out at her back.

I snickered. She shot me a merry look and shrugged. "Cooks," was all she said in explanation.

My smile grew wider and I bent down to look through my inadequate basket. The kitchen was bustling, cooks and servants and food everywhere. "Is it always like this?"

She leaned against the wall and considered my question. "Depends. Tonight there's a visit from a nobleman, so there's more going on than usual. But the nobleman isn't very important, so there's not as much fuss as there could be. This is a nice pace."

I shook my head in disbelief. _This_ was considered a nice pace? I could barely stop myself from falling over from exhaustion due to dodging everyone and trying to follow the action. While everybody else seemed to be veterans, slipping in and out of the crowd and not only following, but keeping up with whatever was happening.

Sarah caught the look on my face. "Dizzying, right?"

I nodded sheepishly.

She nodded back sympathetically. "It's always like that, the first time. I remember when I came here," she peered at me. "Want me to show you the ropes?"

"Would you?" I was just about desperate enough to accept.

"It's no trouble. I'm -"

There was a loud _CRASH_ that sounded like a hundred clanging swords, and I jumped nearly a foot in the air. Sarah jumped as well, though not as high as me. We both looked over to see a cook roaring at a tall, thin boy holding an iron kettle.

"OUT! YOU GET OUT THIS SECOND! AND DON'T COME BACK THIS TIME, YOU -" the cook's voice faded as she pulled the boy out of the kitchen, attempting to pry the kettle from his hands at the same time.

"What was that?" I asked, still rattled.

"Oh," Sarah said, putting a hand over her mouth. I suddenly saw she was trying not to laugh. "That was Merlin."

I blinked. "Merlin?"

The kitchen resumed the bustle seamlessly, though I saw some of the servants glancing at each other in amusement.

"Yes," Sarah said, accidentally letting a few chuckles through. She coughed, and glanced at me. My confusion must have inspired pity, because she took her hand away and said in a calmer voice, "Merlin. He's the personal servant of Prince Arthur."

My eyebrows rose. That was…interesting. The boy, despite his height, had to be a few years younger than me, at least. "Really?"

She nodded empathetically, and I blessed whoever was listening that all the tales about kitchen gossip were true. "Really. He's the first one to last more than a week. More than that, he's been with the Prince for_ three years."_

By her tone, I knew that was almost unheard-of. "Three years is an achievement?"

"With Prince Arthur it is." She leaned closer. "He was a _terror_. Never really hurt them, but that's about all he_ wouldn't_ do."

I frowned. "Was?"

She shook her head. "That's just it. He's…better now. Stopped messing around, for the most part. Got on his feet, acting more like a prince should. Ever since Merlin came around."

I digested that information for a minute. "Merlin doesn't look like much."

"He's not," she replied promptly. "He's a bit…um. A bit…off. The general theory is that there's something wrong with his mind. He can do normal things as well as other people can, but at times it seems he's operating under a logic only he knows and does the _strangest_ things. You can never really understand him."

"They let him near the Prince?"

I regretted the words as she looked at me blankly for a second before shock and incredulity flitted across her face. "You -"

I bit my lip. Sarah stared at me and her shoulders began to shake. She pressed herself against the wall as if she could sink into it, and sagged slightly, bringing both hands up to cover her mouth. "You think -"

She was cut off as she gave in to laughter.

I stood awkwardly beside her, feeling like I was missing out on some private joke.

"You think - you think - that - he would - h-hurt the Prince?"

"Um…"

Sarah took one look at my face, which I just knew was red as a cherry, and bent over in a fresh fit of giggles.

After a minute, she managed to get herself under control, and stood. She placed a hand on my shoulder and stared me in the eye. "Mina -"

"Sarah!" A plump, matronly woman rushed up and grabbed Sarah by the elbow. "You need to set the table!"

"What? But Guinevere -"

"She's not here," the woman waved her hand distractedly. "I've no idea why - but the table has to be set!"

Sarah sighed. "Alright."

"Good girl," the woman said before rushing away.

Sarah turned her attention back to me and said, "Look, once you've been here longer you'll get it. Merlin's a bit off - you'll see that soon enough - but he wouldn't ever hurt Prince Arthur."

Before I could reply, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to my fate.

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The conversation of the Prince's servant retreated to the back of my head during the rest of the day. I saw Sarah a few more times, but it wasn't long enough to get more of a smile and a "You're doing wonderfully, keep it up!"

I knew she was just trying to make me more comfortable, but it worked. I slowly got a faint grasp of the traffic running through the hallways. It would take me weeks to master it completely, but I felt secure enough to tentatively say I could find my way throughout the castle.

It was night before I knew it, and my back was aching from cleaning up the hall where the feast had taken place. I'd known that maids had work, obviously, but I'd never known how _much,_ leaving me bone-tired and more than ready for bed.

Except, somehow, I couldn't get to sleep.

I tried. I really did. But after tossing and turning for several hours, I realized that I simply wasn't going to get any rest tonight.

I decided to take a walk in the castle. It would (hopefully) help me remember the layout.

The castle was different at night. I came across a total of two guards, who didn't really pay me much attention once they confirmed I was just a maid. There was nobody else up at this hour, all comfortably sleeping in their beds. I was jealous.

Suddenly I was struck with the urge to see what the kitchen looked like when there was nobody there. After the rush earlier that day, I wondered what it would be like to stand in the middle of the room and simply breathe freely.

Also, I was hungry, but that is neither here nor there.

It took me a few minutes to find the right way, but I used the time to decide on what I should have to eat. The sweets and sugar would all be under lock and key, but I remembered there was some tasty-looking freshly-baked bread that had been wrapped and put in a cupboard. Nobody would miss a few slices.

I opened the kitchen door, trying to remember what cupboard it had been put in and -

I came to a screeching halt.

The kitchen was _demolished._

Pots and pans and kettles were thrown over the floor, creating an iron avalanche that had wildly raged out of control. Jars had shattered, strewing contents and shards of ceramics everywhere. Ladles, spoons, forks and knives spilled out of drawers, onto the cracks of the visible floor and the polished metal sat glinting among the mess. A white, powdery substance coated half the room like new-fallen snow, giving me the bizzare urge to shiver - flour.

And in the center of it all sat Merlin, holding a kettle over his head and staring straight at me.

I didn't know quite what to say.

"Um."

He kept staring, looking about as awkward as I felt.

"I'm, um," I started, "I just -"

I fell silent again.

He, evidently coming to a decision, got his knees under him and stood up. As he did, I saw a lump of wax on the side of his head. In his ear, actually. But only the left one.

This did not reassure me in the slightest.

"It's…" he said, then grimaced slightly, "It's not what it looks like."

He still hadn't lowered his arms, holding the kettle high above his head.

"Oh." I said faintly, and paused.

"What…exactly…does it look like?"

He took a good, long look around the kitchen.

"I don't know," he admitted at last, "but whatever it looks like, it's not that."

"I…see." I really didn't.

He seemed to realize that he was still holding the kettle over his head, that I recognized as the one he had stolen from the kitchens earlier. "Um…"

"Do you…need help?"

He frowned. "What?"

"Um," I wanted to say _with making sure you don't accidentally maim yourself if you go crazy_, but instead pointed to the mess. "Cleaning up."

"Oh," he said, "No. I can do it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I could hear a faint strain in his voice, something that sounded just the tiniest bit worried. Jerkily he rubbed his head against his shoulder, pushing the wax deeper into his ear.

"A-alright," I stuttered. "Good night."

Merin flashed me a smile. "Good night."

I went out of the kitchen, walked back to my room and sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the wall.

Perhaps I should have been a seamstress.


End file.
